One day Bro. Ahrendt was out advertising the meeting. His last call was at
a schoolhouse, and from there he wanted to go to Bertha intending to take a
short cut through the brush to the highway. On coming to the highway, he
saw a signpost pointing in the direction he was going, which read, "One
mile to Hewitt." "Well," he thought, "what won't boys do changing the road
signs?" He walked on a few steps and saw a little town not far away, then
he realized that he had been going north while he thought he was going
south. The boys had not done any harm. He was mistaken in his sense of
direction.
One year Brother H. A. Sherwood was the evangelist at the Minnesota State
Camp meeting which was held at Saint Cloud. A large, roomy church building
was used for the services. The heat was record-breaking that year, and on
one of the hottest afternoons when Brother Sherwood was expecting to preach
as usual, the heat was so intense that he was physically unequal to the
occasion, and so it came about that at Brother Sherwood's urgent request,
Brother Allison F. Barnard (who, with Mrs. Barnard, was attending the
meeting) consented to preach in his stead that afternoon.
As Bro. Barnard came into the pulpit the Holy Spirit came upon him and upon
the whole congregation in such a way and in such measure as I had never
seen in any service. The heat in the chapel moderated at once, but outside
it was as hot as ever. It was as though the dear man was "out of the body"
and there was no trouble at the altar of prayer for seeking souls to
receive their heart's desire. They prayed through! So, again, the Scripture
was fulfilled, "Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the
Lord of hosts."
* * * * *
Speaking of Brother Sherwood, I loved that big little man in the Lord. On
one occasion he was the campmeeting evangelist at Morden, Manitoba, Canada.
The Lord used him mightily and when the meeting was over it was arranged
that wife and I should take him with us in our car to Grand Forks, North
Dakota. It started to rain and did really pour down. The first forty-five
miles the roads were nothing but black gumbo, and we used eight gallons of
gas driving that forty-five miles.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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